


Rooms on fire

by ThreeMagpies



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 23:15:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4541154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeMagpies/pseuds/ThreeMagpies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie had an affair with Bass, but ran away, scared by the depth and intensity of her feelings for him, of his feelings for her… Later, at a party, she sees him again… One shot...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rooms on fire

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this story started like a fever dream...focusing on sensations, sights, sounds... it's a bit different in technique than I usually write so thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoy it. If you have a moment, I’d love to know what you think. The title is from a song by Stevie Nicks and the story uses the feeling of intensity, of searing passion that the song conjured for me… cheers, Magpie ☺
> 
> Cross posted to FF

Rooms on fire

The lights go past in a stream of neon reds, white, starburst yellow, violet glow and blue, midnight blue; all hazy in the heat of the summer night… She leans against the window, sighs, the eyes of the driver in the rear view mirror catching hers… concern, impatience, in the dark eyes, dark face, brown hands tense on the wheel…’Miss?’ 

She blinks away tears…’yes?’

‘Are you alright, Miss?’

She clears her throat, the sound loud and too much like a sob… ‘Yes…’

The cab radio plays some forgotten, bluesy, late night songs made before she was born on a midnight to dawn easy listening station, soundtrack to lost loves, lost dreams… She cracks the window open for air, letting the wind whistle through in keening counterpoint to songs about heartaches and things gone… she gazes out at the soft blurred, hard edged city. It pours and flows past them, through them… beautiful in its night time clothes of sequined lights stretching like sparkling diamond clustered scarves and soft, dark velvet shadow coats… roads slip by like satin ribbons through her fingers… fractured reflections in the window of street lights, shop windows, night clubs and dollar coins…dimes…roulette tokens…life’s a gamble so they say, and sometimes you play too high…

‘Miss? Where do you want to go?’

She sits up this time, the vinyl seats warm and sticky, catching on the bare skin of her legs, the short skirt tight across her hips, the silk of her top rustling like paper and her high heels catching on the carpet on the floor… where does she want to go…? ’Sorry…’ she passes him a card…’can you drop me here, please?’

He nods and smiles…his relief like a curtain rising… ‘Yes, Miss…’

She leans back again; her hair a soft, blond cushion behind her head, little, curled strands undone, escaping, pulled free by his fingers, undone by his lips, his hands… and reaches into her clutch for her mirror. Her reflection startles her, the face in the mirror full of huge, haunted, shadowed eyes and hollows under high cheekbones, her lipstick gone, his fault, her fault… lips swollen and parted, she looks as though she’s just been kissed and yes she has, she has… Oh Charlie… what have you done? Where do you really want to go?

…………………………….

Rooms on fire, she whispers into the night, the song playing… it’s about him, about Bass… because she wants him, wants more and more, wanted to stay… so why did she run? Rooms on fire…

……………………………

The next night…

Picture a party; expensive, exclusive…tall, iron gates, spread wide to let those with invitations in; the beautiful, shining, shimmering cars purring under lines of flaming torches to a balconied, turreted white stone and glass house in the hills on the outskirts of the city; a long, leafy, tree lined street, her name on the list at the door, of course it is; her agent arranged it…

A limousine and a driver, hers for the night; the thin, grey, cool professional man will wait for her call down the road with the other cool, professional men in the big expensive cars; shiny black, white, cream, all scented with the palimpset layers of expectation, hopes, success…of bargains made with whatever powers be… of leather, rare aftershave… lingering, heady traces of musk, French perfume… the scent of gold… 

The car purrs to a slow, smooth halt at the high, stone arched, torch lit entrance…and she gets out, carefully stepping in high, high heels, red soles flashing in practiced steps, easy, effortless, every step a showcase, nerves making everything sharp, hard edged…bright… every step inside the smooth, heavy door taking her over chessboard tiles into a venetian dream of columned rooms, exotic lamps, their colored lights dancing in hidden corners, over guests dressed in red carpet gowns and black tie… past crystal towers of flowing, golden champagne, wonderland urns overflowing with full fleshed roses, ferns, spider orchids…long corridors, breeze fluttered curtains and whispered conversations fluttering by like half heard poems… 

She wanders through paneled rooms, past painted walls, arched lintels, potted palms, tables laden with fruits and canapés, sushi platters, wait-staff with small, laden trays and distant eyes and takes a tall glass full of honey golden sparkling bubbles, her pause causing rippled swirls and eddies in the crowds as everyone walks around and around, looking for old friends, new friends…anyone they know or should get to know, like her, new to this game, here to be seen, to be admired, to be courted; hearing whispers…. Who’s that…? Oh…yes… 

Another rising star in a galaxy full of stars that shine and fade… fade and shine….

She walks, sways with the music, smiling (of course, although her heart is pale, hiding in a corner chair…) and making small, small talk, leaning down to hear satin cushioned soft, soft whispers, laughter… music softly thrumming… overlapping conversations, red shifting into blues…soft saxophone and drums; who is she? Whispers half heard as she moves on… Oh, yes…I saw her in… Were you there too? Did you hear about him…? So who is she with now…? Where is he? Whispers…half heard as she moves on…

She feels drunk, intoxicated…rooms on fire…

She sees him… Tall, black suit, white shirt… dagger sharp… dark blond curls, light beard, moustache, blue eyes that she swears are like pieces of sky, burning blue lights that fall on her like black blue holes, drawing her in… He bends to the woman beside him, beautiful, dark, red dress…scarlet satin…bright scarlet lips and high, silver shoes, his ear close to the red, ripe lips that whisper little secret things…. but his eyes…his eyes…

His eyes don’t leave her face… 

Until they rake her like furnaces; burning her skin, searing their way down to breasts, nipples that think eyes are fingertips and rise to meet them…and further down, down, all the way down… sweeping, hot blue… 

His lips move, her name floating like smoke…

She doesn’t move, can’t move… held tight in the angry storm blue crossfire of those eyes, her own lashes fluttering, panic taking her breath and he’s still watching her as she somehow finds it in her to go past him; slowly, her eyes filling with sand, with salt water seas, with tears that somehow don’t drop, don’t fall… 

Why is he here? Tonight? She wasn’t expecting him, wasn’t ready, wasn’t prepared…

Her heart pounds… body tingling, legs trembling, lips and tongue dry... searching for the door, somewhere, somewhere… she looks for the way out, breath coming faster… don’t see me, don’t talk to me… moving, invisible, eyes front… through the crowds of laughing, talking, unseeing people… heels tap, tap, tapping over black and white chessboard, a pawn, going point to point, dark and light, light and dark, the door, the door coming closer…

Then, outside…into the warm breath of night, hanging, heavy blooming, fragrant branches of hibiscus and jasmine… far away hum of traffic in the distant city far below, visible in streams and rivers of red and white lights, and she sobs out…breath catching… falls back against the hard stone of the wall… 

…………………………………..

Tell me…. she whispers, sobs into the night… why wasn’t she strong enough to stay, why did she run... but it was too late, already too late… rooms on fire...

………………………………… 

She feels the air move…

And he’s there…tall, tall, black suit, white shirt… dagger sharp… dark blond curls, light beard, moustache, blue eyes that she swears are like pieces of night sky, burning blue lights that fall on her like black blue holes, drawing her in…

‘Bass…’ 

Then his lips are on hers…his hands on her like irons, burning through to skin in streaks and bursts of flame borrowed from the torches that flare brighter or is it just because he’s there… He pulls her into him, body hard, all muscles, arms hard around her, strong, hard…and she’s drowning in him, drowning in hot, hot streams and torrents, because she doesn’t want him to let go, not again…his lips and tongue fighting, firing hers… breaths mingling in gasps and hot lava flows…the white stone cool against her back…fire and ice…

His hands slide down, stroking down over the smooth satin covered skin of ass and thighs… then up, breath hissing, her arms sliding up, up over silken flesh of chest and neck, holding on for dear…life… as his fingers find her melting, molten core, soft parted lips, swollen, aching for him… his fingers finding her melting, molten – for him, wanting more, more…

‘Charlotte… Charlie, you love me, or it wouldn’t be like this…’ his lips leave hers…his voice… haunted, harsh, demanding, … burning, searing, right through to the moon dark soul, the dark heart of things… ‘So why did you leave?’

The world stops turning…

………………………………….

So tell me, she whispers into the dark…rooms on fire…

…………………………………

Surrender… she surrenders… ‘I don’t know…’ she whispers…holding on, her fingers in his hair, holding on… fingers threading through curls, her head spinning… her eyes meeting his, drowning in blue… ‘I don’t know…’ her breath flows out into the night air…

‘Do you love me?’ he asks… he asks her this time, his eyes ask her, his hands ask her… soft, softly smoothing over satin covered skin… his lips, brushing over satin skin at neck and shoulder, lingering at the little hollow at her throat… ‘Charlie…?’

She surrenders…surrenders…utterly, totally… tells him yes, yes, with her kisses, her hands, her body (her molten core and sweet, parted lips…) her mouth, her breasts, her belly aching for him… wanting him to fill her up, consume her, take her with his lips, his mouth, his cock… ‘Yes…’ it echoes in the dark…’yes, yes, yes…’

They leave the limousine (the driver will be paid anyway, it’s nothing to him….) leave the party, leave the sounds of voices, music, tinkling crystal glasses…music, laughter… into the moonlit, tree shadowed street to his shining, sleek, black velvet car; to the lush cocoon of velvet and leather, hushed purr and distant rumble of finely tuned engine… And they drive, the lights going past in a slipstream of neon reds, white, starburst yellow, violet glow and blue, midnight blue…all hazy in the heat of the summer night…

Charlie needs to touch him, has to touch him, her fingers leaving trails over his skin…soft, wanting smiles, wanton kisses… her fingers trail over silk shirt, then underneath, gliding, stroking over silken skin, lightly, roughly dusted with his dark golden hair, she strokes lower, over the smooth leather belt and silver buckle…down to where she can feel him, hard, long and hard. She strokes him, her hard beast; her dark, bright love…

His breath catches… and he laughs…his eyes steady on the road, hands on the wheel… ‘Nearly there, Charlie…’ his voice gives him away… his voice trembles, ripples down her spine… 

She reaches down with her free hand, free? No not free, her hands are his too… her hands, her body (her molten core and sweet, parted lips…) her mouth, her breasts, her belly aching for him… wanting him to fill her up, consume her, take her with his lips, his mouth, his cock… ‘Yes…’ the sound echoes in the dark…’yes, yes, yes…’ nearly there…

He stops the car…

The city spreads below them like a magic carpet…moving and changing but always the same… always the same... a slipstream of neon reds, white, starburst yellow, violet glow and blue, midnight blue…all hazy in the heat of the summer night… 

Outside, the cliff-top is empty, the road flexing down, curving; bending into tree dark distance… and his eyes are like pieces of sky, burning blue lights that fall on her like black blue holes, drawing her in… and she falls, falls… His hands lifting her, lifting her up onto the smooth, warm, shining metal bonnet… skirt pushed slithering up around her waist, top pushed down…his mouth and hands greedy at her lips, her breasts, between her legs, her hot core molten, wet, pulsing… 

Her breath comes in harsh pants, in gasps, wanting, needing…

He laughs low against her wanting, wanton lips, slides her down, down over him, over the length of him…and turns her round, belly, bent skin down over the warm heart of the car, arms stretched out, tight, fingernails bright on the dark shine of the bonnet… her hair undone, undone and loose, golden waves caught in the wind of his breath as he leans over… 

She spreads wide, thighs, calves… every muscle tight, waiting, wanting, skin prickling… toes straining higher in the high, high heels…the air cool on the soft, smooth heat of her skin…impatient…breath panting, waiting, breath coming faster….’Bass…’ 

His hands stroke over her skin; over her ass, down her thighs, and he kneels behind her… mouth feasting, lips and tongue feasting, teeth grazing her clit, with little, wet sounds…his hands spreading her more, a full, smooth globe in each palm, lips and tongue feasting, devouring, plundering… she opens wider…gives herself over utterly, completely…to his mouth, his tongue, feasting, devouring, consuming…

Her moans, gasps, cries… float on the breeze, carry on the wind, return to her ears… changed to strange, wanton music, syllables lost… and she comes in great waves that crash in heavy surf, bubbling and panting in spreading fans of foam…

‘You taste so, so sweet, Charlotte….’ and she feels him slide up, over her, feels his hands stroke up her legs, her thighs, her ass… until she feels him, his cock, hot, so hot, hard, heavy… velvet soft, velvet hard… wanting to come in…

She laughs this time... and surges back to meet him as he plunges inside…deep, deep, plumbing her to the core, their bodies meeting, joining then parting, joining again, the soft feel of his balls against her clit, soft sounds of flesh meeting soft wet flesh, friction of skin against skin, his hands on her, stroking over breasts and back, both of them feasting, devouring, the hot sensation spiraling up and up… the night breeze sweeping the sounds of flesh meeting soft wet flesh, moans and gasping breaths, whispered love notes…

She is between the car, smooth, shiny, hard beneath her skin, and him…hot, hard muscled, heavy, in her and around her, hovering weightless in an endless moment of brilliant, shining, hard, coming, becoming… that moves in slow tsunami ripples, then thunders, gushing in through her, through him… then slowly leaves him draped, clinging to her, his hands stroking over still trembling, softly flushed skin…

The city spreads below them like a magic carpet…moving and changing but always the same… always the same... a slipstream of neon reds, white, starburst yellow, violet glow and blue, midnight blue…all hazy in the heat of the summer night… 

She smiles… and leans back against his warmth, his arms, hard, possessive, strong, around her…

Rooms on fire….

……………………………………..

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Hi and thanks for reading ☺ I wanted to express that feeling of total want, of absolute, overriding passion, a feeling that can be frightening, can feel so all consuming that you either have to abandon it or surrender to it… anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading, now I'm back to working on another chapter of 'Throw sadness to the wind, Sorrow to the sky..' as well as another little side story trip... then, to all the lovely prompts from the Good Ship Charloe and the Orgy Armada (no wonder the sea comes up so much in my stories...) Oh I love writing, and reading!! Cheers, Magpie…


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